


A Noose of Scales

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon Sickness, Extended Metaphors, Gold Sick Thorin, M/M, Pre-Battle of Five Armies, Sacrifice, Symbolism, my 11th grade english teacher wouldve been so proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 19:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: The dragon sickness takes on a physical form, visible only to Bilbo; it is a small, familiar dragon that winds itself tight around Thorin's neck.Bilbo still does what he can to take its burden from Thorin.





	A Noose of Scales

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea where this came from
> 
> [good playlist i was listening to](https://playmoss.com/en/ragesyndrome/playlist/erebor-burning)

      The room is quiet after Bilbo shuts the door behind him. In his bed, the king does not stir.

  
  
      Bilbo's steps, too, are hushed as he makes his way over, too concentrated on being as silent as possible to even breathe. That is for the best - for what he sees, nestled into the bedding, would have made him gasp if he had any less control over his throat.

  
  
       Tucked tight around Thorin's sleeping body and burrowed into his sheets is what appears to be the phantom image of a dragon. It curls around Thorin's neck especially, though it is long enough that it has its head resting just above Thorin's chest, his heart. Despite Bilbo's silence, it seems to have picked up on his presence, and opens one eye to peer up at him.

  
  
       It looks so very much like Smaug. Smaug, who is dead and decomposing in the bottom of Lake-town's waters right now, has still found a way to haunt Thorin from his watery grave.

  
  
       There is intelligence in the dragon's cold, golden eyes. As it peers up at Bilbo, he can spot the second that it realizes he can see it. They widen, and it shifts, whole body rolling much like that of a garden snake as it pushes itself up to get a better look.

  
  
       "Interesting," it says, its voice more of a hiss than anything. The sound it makes doesn't disturb the slumbering king any more than its movements did. It doesn't take its eyes off of Bilbo for even a second, and Bilbo fears what would happen if he broke that gaze with even a blink. "So very _interesting_..."

  
  
       Bilbo doesn't have an answer for that. And if he did, he still wouldn't give it, because he's trying to be quiet. That dragon can talk all it wants without Thorin waking at the sound; Bilbo does not have the same luxury.

  
  
       He takes a step closer and at his side, his fingers flex. They itch to reach out and touch, but he knows better. To brush aside the hair in the dwarf's face would certainly wake him, and Bilbo is sure that the outcome of that would not be pretty. As for the dragon...

  
  
       Something about it calls to him. Its whispers are familiar. They sound like the beckoning from another gold and dangerous secret that he has.

  
  
       They worry him for a moment. It makes him wonder just what will happen if he touches the dragon. Something has to, for it to call to him like this. He wonders if touching it will rid Thorin of his madness, but will infect Bilbo himself.

  
  
       He reaches out to touch it anyway.

  
  
       He slides a single finger over the top of its head first before he decides on what to do next. He'll pick it up if he has to, if that would help, but he doesn't want to jostle the bedding if he doesn't have to.

  
  
       The first thing he notices is how _cold_  it is. It is cold and scaly and reminds Bilbo of his time with the real Smaug, of tumbling down and sliding through piles of hard and cold coins and gems. This surprises him, and Bilbo moves to pull back, but the dragon only moves with him, shifting and sliding up his arm, all on its own.

  
  
       It would appear he didn't have to pick it up at all.

  
  
       He bites his tongue around a hiss when its little claws, sharp for how small they are, dig into his flesh as it makes its way to his shoulders. It does not cut him, but the places it scratched leave red marks behind as the blood wells to the skin. Fortunately, Bilbo's arms are mostly sleeved, but unfortunately, his collarbone, where the dragon settles, is less-so.

  
  
       While the dragon had been moving, Bilbo had watched Thorin for any change. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he was relieved to notice that the differences were immediate. From the second it had started to join Bilbo instead, Thorin had looked lighter in his sleep, his eyebrows unfurrowing, the crease between them smoothing out, his breathing lightening. Despite the uncertainty of what the dragon would cause for Bilbo instead, he had felt a deep and almost overwhelming wave of relief.

  
  
       He closes his eyes at the sight, at the warmth in his chest it caused, and lets the dragon curl its awful, tiny claws into his skin. Now that he is not looking at Thorin any longer, the dragon demands more of his attention. He can feel it, tight and strangely heavy as it is, curled around the back of his neck like a short scarf.

  
  
       It has a weight to it that Bilbo wasn't expecting. Had Thorin felt it, too? Was it yet another thing that only made his sleeping harder to come by?

  
  
       He whispers his question behind a cupped hand, taking a step back from the bed. The dragon shifts, slinking slow and heavy around his neck, as it answers back that, no, Thorin did not feel the weight. Well, not consciously.

  
  
       "At least," the dragon hissed, the words coming out throaty and tinged with an amusement so dark it made Bilbo shudder, "Any weight he felt was not from _me_."

  
  
       Bilbo bit his lip at the implications of that answer.

  
  
       Instead of thinking on how the king would have any other burdens to threaten a peaceful sleep, Bilbo allows himself to come to the conclusion that _this_  weight, the sinking heaviness around his neck, was unique to Bilbo. It would be a struggle just for him to carry and feel, since the dragon would not affect him the same way it did Thorin. It might not _twist_  his mind and perceptions, but carrying it certainly wouldn't be without its own consequences.

  
  
       "Will you still carry me?" The dragon asks, and for the first time since it has spoken, its voice is neutral. Its question is genuine, and so is its desire to Bilbo's answer.

  
  
       Bilbo doesn't think about answering it. All he has to do is look down at Thorin, at his still sleeping form, at the first sight of peace he has seen on his king in such a long time. Too, too long of a time.

  
  
       That one look at Thorin is all it takes.

  
  
       What wouldn't he do for him? Yes, he will take this dragon, and he will carry its weight so Thorin doesn't have to.

  
  
       He turns to the door without saying a word, and the dragon, smug all the same, coils tighter around his neck, like that of a heavy chain. A golden noose, perhaps.

  
  
       He has already faced down a dragon for this dwarf. What is one more?


End file.
